A Man's Search for Meaning
by Sinbad le Marin
Summary: (Title from Victor E. Frankl's book of the same name): Aleksei Perovsky is a convert in a strange new land. But all Jews get along perfectly well in Anatevka, right? K for now; may get a little heavy later on.


Ch. 1

Aleks

For those who are bothered by my new standard of living, allow me to make one thing clear right now: I do not hate Christ. On the contrary, if his teachings did not morph into a separate religion, I'm sure more of the world would see him as a Plato or a Confucius or a Descartes. And, even after becoming a Jew, I never completely denied that he is the son of the LORD our God. Because after all, one can never know. It is not the concept of Christianity that troubled me. It was the religion's followers.

But that is a story for another day. I am getting ahead of myself.

I sat at the tiny wooden table across from Eloisa. She only looks at her food, the top of her head wrap reflecting in the candlelight (non-Jews are allowed to light candles after Shabbat).

"Isa," I break the silence with my hoarse voice. "What time is it?"

"Late," she replies. "A few hours to midnight, I think." I could tell. Her head keeps bobbing up and down.

I nod. I had to think of something else to say. This was only our second shabbat and I did not want to continue sitting in silence like this. It was my fault. I should have asked someone to teach me instead of waiting for someone to invite us over. Now, in my little hut, I sit alone with my sister and my God, and I am doing both of them an injustice.

"Go to sleep, Isa. You're exhausted."

"I'm not exhausted. My neck is simply choosing not to support my head."

I laugh. "You and your neck can go upstairs to bed."

"But we haven't thanked God for the food," she whines.

"Why are you complaining? You never cared about that. Besides, we have."

"No. Not the way the Torak demands."

"Torah."

"My mouth is also choosing not to support my head. One day nothing will support my head and it will fall right off.

I find myself smiling like an idiot. As I usually do whenever Eloisa has something witty to say and I have no response. I've been smiling a lot in the past twenty years or so.

"But who needs a head when I've got a scholar in the house?"

I roll my eyes. "Eloisa, we've talked about this. I'm not going to spend the whole day in the Yeshiva-"

"Of course you won't be spending the whole day in an I-can't-pronounce-it. You'll be spending your whole day studying. You can't convert if you'll be working all day like a pauper."

"Working doesn't make you a pauper."

She closes her mouth. "You're right. That was inconsiderate of me to say."

"Don't dwell on it. You and I are not used to this life yet. But we will get used to it."

She nodded. "You're right. I was never frightened of work. Maybe I just didn't expect it to be this much."

"You know you can leave for St. Petersburg at any time you wish."

She scoffed. "Yes, and leave you here in the middle of nowhere."

I wanted to argue that Anatevka wasn't the middle of nowhere, but I stopped before any word could come out. I am not ignorant. I knew what would happened to places like this. And that it would eventually hit here, too. _So why did I even bother coming?_

Eloisa yawns and takes our dishes to the washstand. "Go to sleep. I want you to have energy to study tomorrow."  
And work, of course. But I didn't want to stir her at this time of night. So I simply ended with a Nostalgic game of War:

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"What was that, soldier?" She responded with the pseudo-baritone voice she used as a child.

"Yes, supreme leader dictator First Counsel Her Highness General dictator Eloisa Perovsky," I replied, wary of raising my voice too high as not to wake the neighbors.

"You said dictator twice," she remarked as she headed upstairs. I smiled. "I know."

We had no challah that night. We had no wine or kiddush cup. We had no guests. We had no friends. I knew only several prayers, all of which I recited three times over already and did not understand a word to any of them. It may not seem like much to get upset over, but I was worried. Would every Shabbat be like this? How was I going to learn if I never found out what to do? I was sure more people would be kinder to me. But I could not rely on kindness. If I was going to become a Jew, I had to do it anyway I could, with help or without. _I am sorry, God. I will find a someone to show me the ways of this new life in the morning. And I will not be shy this time._

It would have helped to know how to say that in Hebrew.

A/N: Hey readers! Thanks for looking at this! The first chapter of this story isn't great, but I actually have an idea and a direction this time! Go planning! Anyway, this is my first time writing a full story for a long time. I re-fell in love with the musical recently and, going to a Jewish school, I figured this could be an interesting story to tell from the POV of an outsider. Get pumped for the next chapters. Will try to update as much as I can! Thanks for taking a look at this!

Sinbad le Marin


End file.
